Counting Stars
by adancingflame
Summary: a little Emma Approved fic drawing inspiration from the song "Counting Stars", by One Republic, from the perspective of our dear Mr. Knightley.


a story based around the song "Counting Stars" by One Republic and inspired by one ms. caitlin, better known as fairytiger over at AO3.

_lately i been, i been losing sleep_

_dreaming about the things that we could be_

Alex never was good at falling asleep. Emma always comes up with different suggestions and remedies; teas, playlists, keeping the lights on or off depending on whichever study she'd read up on most recently. This is something of a tradition with them, in fact, since high school, when exams and girls and life in general would tangle up in his mind and keep sleep at bay. His spunky little next door neighbour would catch him dozing off in the library and make suggestions. Even at 14, Emma was both scattered and organized: she was good at everything and had the potential to be great at many things, if she could ever settle long enough to focus.

It used to be nerves about scholarships or grades or third dates that kept Alex up, but lately it's been that spunky little neighbour who isn't that little anymore (or technically his neighbour, since they moved out of their parents houses.) He used to consider her a bit of a pest but he had always adored her regardless; there could never be a dull moment with Emma Woodhouse and if there was, he had yet to experience it after more than a decade of friendship - longer, considering they'd been neighbours since before either of them were actually born, but they had both subscribed to boys and girls have cooties until at least middle school. And when he was a pre-teen, there was no way he was gonna be the guy hanging out with some little kid, especially the one with perfectly combed pigtails in Mary Janes.

He can't pinpoint when his interest in other girls began to be edged out by a preoccupation with Emma. It's not like he wants it to even really happen (most of the time.) This is the daughter of his mentor, the kid who thought sleepy-time tea would solve all of his problems, not to mention his business partner. They were a great fit at running a company; she was an unstoppable force who really only needed an anchor to keep her from heading in ten, maybe twenty different directions, and he was great at that. Nothing has changed there over the couple of years that they have spent running the "Matchmaking and Lifestyle Division" at Highbury Partners Lifestyle Group. (He hates his business cards, but he will grudgingly admit Emma did an amazing job designing them.) And it is, and always has been, a point of pride for him that Emma took his advice and opinions seriously on just about everything, something that a very select few people could claim when it came to Ms. Woodhouse.

Anyway, it's not even feelings, really. Preoccupation, maybe; distraction, definitely. It would take him half the time to get through his morning inbox if he wasn't always so busy wondering when Emma would duck in to harass him about the printer, or if she would just plop down and do that annoying thing where she bumps up against him, or what shoes she would be clicking around the offices in (he has developed a very bizarre love/hate thing with a specific pair of noisy red high heels.) He wouldn't even mind a less productive day at work if it meant he could get to sleep at a reasonable hour.

Maybe he should take one of her more recent suggestions and get a prescription for sleeping pills. Safer than a good knock to the head, which is what he really feels like doing most of the time.

_old, but i'm not that old_

_young, but i'm not that bold_

Emma's favourite jokes at Alex's expense (and there are more than a few) are about his age. He's only four years older than she is, but she never lets him forget it.

For some reason, when he turned 27 several years ago, it was staggering. Birthdays had never really affected him – they were kind of just like, a particularly fun day – but for some reason, 27 really did.

"I'm in my late twenties, Emma," he had moaned to her the day after. She had arranged a dinner at a delicious restaurant with all of his friends the night before, and it had been a great night. She had also somehow taken charge of his family celebration (although why this had surprised him, he will never be sure – this was not exactly a first) and arranged a brunch with his parents and his brother John, and cheerfully let the Knightleys insist on the Woodhouses joining them.

All in all, a great birthday. And yet.

"Oh honestly, you're not _that _old, Alex," she said, rolling her eyes at him and tossing her hair over her shoulder. If he recalled correctly, she had been wearing those distracting red shoes.

"That's easy for you to say, Emma," he replied, through his hands. "You're 24."

"Oh my god, so we're four years apart. That's nothing. It's not like, sixteen years or something. Can you stop moping all over these expense reports? It is a very bizarre day when I am more concerned about the paperwork than you are."

As usual, Emma's mix of sympathy and sarcasm had lifted his spirits. This is another of her talents; she can always detect when he is feeling down and knows exactly what to do to cheer him up. Actually, lately it is something of a concern, her intuition when it comes to him. His last birthday was his 29th, and all of her celebrations had been exceptionally - even for Emma Woodhouse - thoughtful and tactful. Generally he can rely on Emma being wrapped up in her own bubble, and she always has a few too many things going on at once, so most of the time he flies under her radar. Or tries to. He doesn't exactly want her picking up on how distracting he's been finding her lately. They tend to tell each other everything, whether they want to or not; inevitably they end up spilling anything and everything to each other, over lunch or stuck in traffic or at interminable family get-togethers. But this is something – this, whatever "this" is – that he is sure he would never be able to say.

_i feel something so right_

_by doing the wrong thing_

_and i feel something so wrong_

_by doing the right thing_

People who didn't know them well would sometimes ask if they were a couple or suggest they get together. They're always quick to laugh it off. One time, a prospective client was way too enthusiastic working with them, as they were clearly proof that Emma's methods worked. Alex loved this mostly because of how much it made Emma squirm; on the one hand she wanted to be viewed as successful and was hesitant to correct the high-profile young woman, but on the other she was so thrown off by this insinuation she could barely get through the consultation.

He brings this incident up over lunch in their sunny little break room one day (it used to be a well-lit storage closet until Emma had commandeered it as their personal break room, mostly to escape their Highbury co-workers – specifically Mrs. Bates.) "Hey, remember when that potential client last year thought we were a couple?" he asks, a lot more nonchalantly than he really feels. He has no idea why he is bringing this up. He only knows that he really wants to talk about it for some reason.

"Oh man. Yeah," she says, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. "As if. Can you even believe that? That is so wrong." She laughs and delicately picks up a piece of sushi with her chopsticks. (She's stopped trying to get him to learn how to use chopsticks, or eat anything more exotic than a turkey sandwich for lunch. She may be the most persistent person on the planet, but she also knows a lost cause when she sees one.)

"Yeah," he echoes, sounding more hollow than he intends to, "So wrong."

_but baby, i been, i been prayin' hard_

_said no more counting dollars,_

_we'll be counting stars_

Alex and Emma have always had common goals when it comes to the business. They have always sought success in everything, from grade school assignments to summer camp challenges to SAT scores. The Knightleys were a newly upper-middle class family that prided themselves on their work ethic and where it had gotten them, and Alex was no exception. Emma, on the other hand, came from an old money family. Mr. Woodhouse had always encouraged her and supported her, ensuring she follow her heart, and it was always abundantly clear that his little girl dreamed of some kind of world domination.

In essence, Alex and Emma placed a good deal of value on material success, on being able to live independently as soon as they could, on proving themselves, on being the best in their field.

Lately, however, when Alex thinks about work, it's less about the budget and more about the girl.


End file.
